Learn to Fly
by Briar Hecate
Summary: An ex-Jedi turned mechanic, an unlucky seamstress, and a young apprentice team up to return an ancient artefact to its rightful owner. But they'll have to let go of who they think they are... and accept who they were born to be. Set before Force Awakens. An adventure story with a lot of heart and a little romance. OCxOC with some familiar faces.
1. Prologue

It was the end.

The assault on Kashyyyk had not lasted ten minutes and already it was over. Cale could feel himself drop to the ground, a searing pain tearing through his back. He had pictured his death in so many different ways, none of them as beautiful as this though. Truly, it was a beautiful way to die.

Kashyyyk was always such an awe-inspiring place. The massive trees and foliage which grew in abundance there never failed to knock his breath out of him. Lying with his cheek pressed into the dirt he could see them now; the trees stood stoically amid the chaos that was bubbling around them.

He could not see the Imperials, but knew that they would be there soon. He could hear his broken comlink cutting in and out. There was screaming, muffled cries that echoed through the static. He closed his eyes and could feel the ripple of the force carrying new patrons.

More Jedi had been killed.

Opening his eyes, Cale assessed the situation, willing himself to remain calm. He breathed in a large amount of dust, then proceeding to hack it out of his lungs, the organs clenching with wretched pain. Spluttering up a mix of phlegm, dust and blood he knew that he did not have much longer. The blaster had pierced a hole in his lung. He could feel himself drowning in his own blood, the familiar rusty taste welling in his mouth.

In all respects, a better Jedi would have seen it coming. But, Cale was still young... too young to really be a smart soldier. Eighteen and lucky to have been enlightened to the force was a rarity with Order 66 still ringing in the ears of the inhabitants of the galaxy.

But, in spite of everything, they had still found him, and they were still willing to train him. A few rogues, but rogues who he felt were good, and knew more about life and beyond it than anyone he had ever met. He had no parents anyway. They disappeared before he could remember them.

So, that made it better. And he became better. And before Cale Cage could speak in coherent sentences he was lifting objects that weighed a ton with the flick of his finger.

But he was also foolish and reckless. No matter how much tutoring he had, how many lessons he memorized, they could not rid him of his arrogance. Which was why he was now pressed into the dirt on some foreign planet drowning in his own blood.

He coughed up more bloody mucus. It would not be much longer now. He allowed himself to close his eyes, ignoring the yells of Wookie soldiers and the flashes of light, signalling the First Order troops. He had failed. It was over.

Then he could feel the pain in his back intensify as he was picked up.

"No!" he screamed, "my back!"

Nevertheless he was carried onward. He turned his head and could see the white-armoured soldiers begin to raze the ground behind them, unleashing mass destruction upon the lush life that had once resided there. He closed his eyes once more, not expecting them to open.

* * *

Aurora knew that once she stepped foot on the massive pile of steel she would never see her home again. Like a child she did not want to let go of her mother's hand. Tears threatened, but she promised herself that she would not cry. They could expect as much from a senator's daughter.

She clenched her mother's hand tighter.

"I don't want to go," she whispered.

Luckily, mother did not hear her. Even now she stood stoically at the gate, her gaze not wavering for a moment. Even in the chaos that had taken place for the past few months, she had never seen her mother lose composure. The wife of a senator was expected to remain silently assured at every moment. It was as though the thin line of her mouth had been cemented into place.

Aurora could spot her father in the crowd, speaking with members of the security team. He was arranging for them to board the craft safely. They would have taken their smaller, more comfortable yacht but in times like these it was dangerous, even foolish to put themselves at risk in a smaller vessel.

The massive star cruiser yawned on in front of the family. She could feel a few tears slide down her face, she welcomed them.

"Hush now," her mother scolded, a sense of regal authority in her voice. "I will have none of this. You are a senator's daughter and a princess, I raised you to know better."

The young woman looked up at her mother, her eyes shining with brimming tears.

Then suddenly there was a blinding flash of light. There was no sound, only people running and screaming.

A heavy weight crushed her. She was pinned under a piece of scrap metal. Her cheek was pressed to the ground, staring at those running by. She was helpless.

And then there was someone pulling at her. She felt herself lifting in their hands, her ears ringing loudly. She could not remember anything, desperately confused about how she had ended up on the ground.

The hands brought her over to the ship, where another person had collected her. They grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her onto the barge. Slowly, as they pulled away and into the upper reaches of the atmosphere she turned back and looked at her saviour.

She promised herself to always remember his face.


	2. The Race

Cale Cage's right hand clung to the iron bar separating him from the packed dirt arena, feeling the grains of mud and sand grind into his palm. His teeth were clenched, his jaw ached from the pressure and sweat rolled down the small of his back. His left hand gripped tightly onto the crutch pinioned beneath his armpit, knuckles white.

All kinds of species were packed tightly together in the spectator rings. Those with money to spend could purchase a chair on higher ground in the stadium. The towering rows of chairs stretched up incredibly high. Cale had forfeited a seat for extra betting credits. He wiped the sweat off his brow and licked his dry lips, trying to spot his pod racer in the melee before the starting line.

He was always like this on race day. Twice a month, he would press to the front of the Corellian crowds and watch his racer bump and rattle its way to the lead. His apprentice, Sam, was little enough to fit comfortably in the speeder's cramped pilot's chair. Thirteen years old and he had already won enough races for Cale to keep the body shop open.

Even with their recent string of luck, the Corellian economy wasn't kind to struggling mechanics. They needed the win today.

'Maybe this will be the last one Sam,' Cale had sighed as they towed the pod racer to the arena.

Sam had simply shrugged his shoulders. 'It would be a lot less interesting if it was.'

Sam was still young enough to believe that nothing could touch him. Cale had taught him to pilot that damn thing too well. Maybe if he'd let him figure a few things out on his own, Sam would have had more caution and respect for the machine itself, and for the danger they posed.

But pod racing wasn't for the weak or hesitant. You had to be smart. You had to like going fast. You had to believe no one could touch you.

Ten years ago, Cale had all of those things. After the accident, he decided that going at the speed limit was a good way to keep yourself alive. Conversely, it was also a good way to stay hidden. But making a living in the galaxy was tough, and every once and a while he allowed himself and Sam to dip a toe into activities that weren't legal… strictly speaking.

'Come on,' he muttered to himself.

He watched the small speeder take its place in the starting line against bigger, meaner looking pieces of machinery. Cale closed his eyes. He quit believing in better things, mystical things ten years ago… but every now and then he reckoned it was okay to dip a toe into things like that too.

A loud buzzer sounded and he heard the whizz of the pods in front of him, too close for comfort. He squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to open them until the end of the first lap. _Come on, come on, come on…._

He opened one eye, allowing it to adjust to the light. Sam was behind the leader of the group. Cale let out a loud whoop, throwing his hand off the rail and into the air. 'Come on Sam!' he yelled out loud this time. He happily elbowed a shrewd little alien beside him who tried to pickpocket him.

Sam followed closely behind the leader now, taking over the second place slot. 'Okay, stay there, stay there,' Cale murmured, as though his coaching could help even now.

' _Get your hands off me!'_

Cale threw his attention away from the race and back into the crowd. He suddenly felt all of his limbs go heavy. His head felt packed with cotton. His heart began to beat steadily faster, the skin on the back of his neck stood on end.

He'd not felt this way in ten years. Blinking his eyes rapidly, he tried to get rid of it. Again, the alien tried to take this as an opportunity to rob him. Spinning with nearly inhuman speed, he grabbed the alien's forearm. Through clenched teeth he spat, 'Leave. Now.'

The alien scurried off into the crowd. As Cale watched him leave, he heard the voice again. _'Help! Leave me alone!'_

It was a woman. She was screaming, mouth open, teeth bared. _'Help!'_

Cale scanned the crowd. He could not see her there. She was blonde. Curly headed. Younger than him.

' _Don't touch me!'_

Cale's heartbeat was a steady pounding rhythm as the rest of the race drowned out around him. Then there was another voice in his head. It was a man's, clear and demanding. His old teacher.

'Find her.'

* * *

Rory was called to the arena that morning to repair one of the team flags. She mostly did dresses for senator's wives and military regalia for their husbands and sons, but she also took her expertise as a seamstress to the racing domes. Teams would pay well for a creative, well-made flag. Throwing her sewing kit in a bag she rushed off through the Corellian high streets, trying to find a lift down to the bottom of the spiraling, tall skyscrapers.

She had five minutes before the race would begin. _I can make it_ , she thought hopefully. These black market things were bound to start late anyway.

She rushed into a packed lift, watching as they descended quickly, down and then down further, into the dark bowels of Corellia.

That's how it was on this planet. The high class lived in the clouds while the poor were left to fend for themselves on the planet's floor. She gulped as the lift let go of petite, well dressed passengers, and became filled with burlier, punchier looking patrons. She kept a tight grip on her bag and stared at the doors, determined to not be intimidated.

Rory had not been to the bottom of Corellia since she was abandoned here over ten years ago, when she was twelve years old. A kindly older couple had taken pity on her, thinking that she was too pretty and innocent to be left to the machinations of more sinister breeds. She still found that her green eyes and blonde hair could get her out of similar sticky situations; like when a stitch was out of place, or she'd made a dress too tight. She was unsure if the smugglers and bounty hunters would be so easily swayed.

She fingered the jagged gemstone pendant she wore beneath her clothes absentmindedly. It was warm to the touch today, which she found it did from time to time. It was the only remnant of her life before Corellia. She'd stop questioning who gave it to her or where it came from a long time ago. The memories from that time were dim and confusing and meaningless.

The pendant was a pretty trinket that got lots of compliments. She liked to think it was a gift from her irresponsible mother, who's similar good looks got her into a certain type of trouble that she couldn't talk her way out of.

Finally, they had made it to the bottom. The lift doors opened and Rory rushed out immediately, turning in the direction of the stadium. Although it was morning at the top the bottom was lit by greenish yellow lamps that flickered and fizzled in bad humour.

Rory shook her head, thinking what her adoptive parents would say to her if they saw her slinking around the pits of the Corellian underworld. When they died they'd left her a comfortable apartment overlooking the sunrise and a modest sum of money. But the taxes on Corellia were climbing and people were beginning to stop investing in custom made clothing. She needed the credits.

 _They pay well_ , Rory reminded herself, dodging a particularly large puddle of peachy coloured liquid that smelled foul.

She could hear the roar of the arena. Her spirits lifted as she jogged toward it.

Suddenly it felt as though she'd run straight into a brick wall. Her entire body slammed to a stop. The pendant was burning against her skin, causing her to rip it out from under her shirt and hold it away from her chest.

Rory gasped. It was burning a bight, brilliant blue. This had never happened before. She stared at it stupidly, wondering what could possibly be going on.

A hand suddenly grabbed her wrist, dragging her off of the street and into a darkened alleyway. 'Get your hands off of me!' she screamed desperately.

The gemstone was still glowing brilliantly. She couldn't see her attacker from the light emitting from it. More hands were grabbing at her, pulling her in different directions. She tried to kick out, to pull her arms away. She screamed and screamed, tears rolling down her face.

 _I don't want to die_ , she thought desperately.

Then someone was pulling her away from the big gripping arms, to the safety of a street lamp. The jewel was now only glowing dimly; the heat in it had cooled considerably. She was exhausted, lying in the street, listening to the sounds of a blaster.

There were pained yelps and grunts. She turned her head to the left and saw a man, blaster at the ready, crutch under the opposite arm. He'd hit a target successfully, a larger shape opposite him slinking back into the shadows. Then he turned to her, his face blacked out from the halo of green light behind his head.

'Help,' Rory choked out.

'You're safe now,' he assured her.

The gem glowed brightly as he got closer, the warmth spreading through her body, lolling her off to sleep.


	3. The Recovery

_A ship. Big, bright metal. Looming. Her mother, reaching for her. A green field. Shadows in the corner of a dark room._

Rory felt herself sit up, her eyes blinking open, her chest rising and falling. She was slicked in sweat. Looking down, she saw that she was in her undershirt. A large, white bandage ran over her left forearm. She stared at in in confusion. Then it came flooding back to her.

The bright, hot, shining light.

Instinctively she pressed a hand to her chest. It was not there. A wave of panic washed over her. _What_ was _that thing?_ she questioned herself.

'Looking for this?' The gemstone dangled from the man's outstretched fist. It reflected the light from the street lamps outside the window.

She twisted round, craning her neck to see whom it was. A sharp pain tore through her side. 'Ah!' she yelped, lying back down on the sleeper and clutching her side.

The man turned on the bedroom light. It was a cramped, dingy space, with dust stains tracking up the corners of the walls. Someone had tried to give the space a touch of comfort; there was a dresser, a doorless closet, and two pairs of boots in a tidy line against the wall. _Sparse and neat_ , she thought, surprised. She always pictured the deep Corellian apartments to be unlivable, full of rat holes and filth. Although the bedroom was not heavily furnished, there was a cozy quality to it.

'Yes. Are you going to kill me?' she felt herself blurt out.

The man looked at her and raised an eyebrow. He would have been more handsome when he was younger, before he'd become so tired looking and weather-beaten. He carried a little extra weight in the middle, but was still slim enough. His face was unshaven, his hair curling at the ends around his ears and neck; a dark brown mop.

'No,' he answered. 'I'm not going to kill you, but those people might have.'

There was a long silence as Rory registered his words. 'I'm just a seamstress!' she shouted suddenly, as though that would grind the entire course of actions to a halt. 'I have no idea what they wanted off of me! I've had that necklace since I arrived here!'

To her supreme embarrassment tears began to threaten. She immediately clapped her hands over her face.

Cale's mouth went dry as he watched the young woman ready to splutter tears. He was never good around crying women, feeling that he just made the situation worse by virtue of being there and being a man. Sucking in a deep breath, he walked closer toward her, reaching out, 'Okay… just try to calm down.'

To his surprise she wiped a few stray tears away and took multiple deep breaths. 'Okay, okay, okay… I'm okay,' she chanted in a hushed voice.

'That's right,' Cale countered, 'you're safe now.'

'Hey Cale! Where the heck did you go? I won the race!'

Cale immediately whipped his head around, moving to shut the door to the bedroom. Sam was home. 'Sam!' he shouted back, 'can you please just-'

The door pushed open and Sam stopped dead in his tracks. 'Oh!' he said loudly, his grin fading into an awkward smile, 'I… I didn't know that you were here alone with…'

Cale hastily pushed Sam out the door and into the living room. 'When did you stop knocking?' he demanded.

'You have a hot girl in there!'

'Sam, shut up-'

'If you needed more time alone why didn't you-'

He held the crystal up in front of Sam's face, glowing from his touch. As soon as it sensed Sam, the crystal began crackling and popping. 'Wow… where'd you find this?'

'She had it on, around her neck.' Cale answered, handing it off to him. It glowed brightly and fizzled as the apprentice held it. Cale smiled to himself, shaking his head. 'I never thought I'd see another one like this… Anyway, it's a long story. She has no idea what this is and what it means.'

'A lightsabre crystal? But aren't you still a Jedi? Don't you need these things or something?' Sam asked casually, taking a seat on the couch, transfixed on the bright blue gem.

'Sam, you know the story. You can stop being a Jedi, but you can't stop being attuned to the Force. I had a feeling that you could tap into it, and looking at that crystal now… turns out I was right.'

'For once,' Sam teased. 'How did you think I was winning those races?' he flashed a few credit vouchers at him for good measure.

'How long have you been feeling like that?' Cale questioned, folding his arms over his chest.

Sam shrugged indifferently, 'I don't know… since I was really little I guess. My reflexes get better when I'm in that pod… and it's like I know what other people are going to do before they do it… weird… I haven't seen anything like this.'

'Hello?' Sam immediately tucked the jewel away from sight as the girl poked her head around the door.

She'd been crying, and the redness made her green irises stand out brilliantly. Her curly hair was mussed from sleep and her loose t-shirt flopped down over her underwear, exposing more leg than Sam had ever seen in his life.

'Down boy,' Cale whispered teasingly, pushing Sam into the sofa so his view was obscured. He could sense the jokes Sam was storing for later. He hadn't had a girl in the apartment for years… being careful to slink around when he had to. That part of his life was off limits in the body shop and over the dinner table when it came to Sam.

'Sorry… I was eavesdropping and I heard… heard you say something about a life saver…?'

* * *

Kylo Ren had failed. He'd already destroyed the entire co-pilot's chair in his corvette and he was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his temples. He should have done it himself. The First Order wanted him to lie low. They had been completing raids around the outer rim, and Corellia was in dangerous government territory.

But hiring thugs was not the way to get things done in this galaxy. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

His heart tightened suddenly as he remembered the idiom, something his father used to say to him growing up. Panicked, he pushed the thought to the very back of his mind. Whenever he felt stress bubble up in his chest he could feel himself reverting back…

Luckily his co-pilot snapped him out of his thoughts.

'Well, that's going to need to be fixed,' he said, stupidly.

Ren ordered him to find a mechanic. They would need to spend more time on the planet, looking for the crystal. This time it would be on his terms.

He needed to find it, and absolutely nothing was going to stand in his way.

* * *

Cale placed a steaming hot cup of tea in front of Rory. She'd exchanged names with him, had a quick shower, and borrowed a new top. She'd also (much to Sam's disappointment) pulled on her trousers. But that didn't stop him from staring at her longingly. Cale suppressed his amusement to arch a warning eyebrow at him.

'Way outta your league kid,' he had told him jokingly when she was in the fresher.

'Yours too!' he shot back, with a less jovial tone.

Cale made tea and a pot of oatmeal for everyone, since they skipped dinner. Rory seemed truly grateful for the hospitality, though he could tell that she wasn't used to crummy apartments and second hand furniture. She kept looking around and squinting, as though she was preparing for one of the dust bunnies to come to life and attack her.

'So you work up above?' Cale asked, trying to be conversational. She clearly knew nothing about what she carried.

She nodded enthusiastically. 'I'm a seamstress. I make stuff like military greaves and party dresses. Nothing too special or anything. It isn't like I have my own brand. I do repairs to you know… I saw some of the clothes in your closet, I can sew some of the holes shut if you wanted me to…'

Sam snorted in laughter. When Cale shot him a glare he promptly shut up and went back to his oatmeal, twisting in around with his spoon. 'I'm a mechanic Rory, the holes are pretty much part of the job.'

'Oh,' Rory said softly and shrugged her shoulders. She grudgingly took a bite of her oatmeal.

Cale knew her type. He knew them very well. Spoiled brats raised by rich folks that decided not to have kids of their own. Rory had spilled the entire story to them earlier. Her own earnestness was a sign of her soft upbringing. If he hadn't rescued her she would have been killed.

 _Still haven't received a thank you_ , Cale thought ruefully.

Rory and Sam were chattering on about something, and Cale gladly interrupted them. 'So Rory, where did you get that necklace?' he asked.

She shrugged, stirring the slop around with her spoon. 'I can't tell you to be honest. Like I said before, I was dropped off here when I was twelve years old.'

'So you have no memory before your life on Corellia?'

She paused for a moment, as though she were reaching around the cobwebs of her brain for an answer. 'Well… I have these dreams with… it sounds silly doesn't it?'

Cale leaned in closer, urging her to continue.

'Well, basically I've been having these dreams where there's a big metal ship. And then there's this woman and she's putting her arm out to me… like she wants to hold my hand or something. And there's also a big green field, that's open, no trees or anything. It's amazing, not like the forests we have here.'

She sighed wistfully. 'But dreams are just that aren't they?'

'You speak with a strong Corellian accent,' Sam observed.

She nodded her head. 'I guess I've been here long enough.'

There was a short silence between the three of them. 'So,' Rory began, 'what about you two? Are you father and son?'

Cale and Sam both burst out laughing. Rory smiled, waiting for a reply. Cale wasn't sure if her comment was sarcasm or genuine interest. Cale and his apprentice looked laughably different. His own skin was an olive tone, and his dark features were in stark contrast to the fair Corellian native population. Sam had a black complexion and tightly curled hair that he kept cropped close to his head.

'Not even close,' Sam retorted, shooting an easy grin at Cale. 'He found me on the streets when I was six years old and took me on as an apprentice. Needed all the help he could get.'

Rory smiled warmly, 'Well I'm glad we have something in common.'

Pleased with himself, Sam went back to his food, blushing.

'What about you Cale?' she asked.

He shrugged easily. 'Some little planet in the outer rim.'

'How did you make it to Corellia?'

He paused. Stories from the past would make his stomach churn. People down below didn't talk about what was behind them this frankly, at least not without alcohol. 'Oh you know, work was better on this planet. Like Sam said, I need all the help I can get.'

He grabbed his bowl, bringing it over to the sink and washing it out. Desperate to change the subject he added: 'Hey Rory… do you mind if we keep that necklace? I'm worried about it falling into the wrong hands. It might surprise you to know that its strong stuff. And because Sam and I are both mechanics we can work with it-'

'Oh please, take it! Honestly, I'm happy not to have it in my life anymore. It's brought me more trouble than its worth!' she said enthusiastically, as though she were doing a good deed.

 _You have no idea_ , Cale mused. Instead he just smiled at her, 'We'd be willing to pay you if you like.'

She laughed in disbelief. 'You saved my life! I probably owe you if we're speaking in terms like that,' Rory said, cracking that warm smile, her eyes shining with a mischief that made Cale's stomach drop.

He leaned on his crutch for extra support, thinking about her slender legs. 'Well, only if you're sure…'

She nodded her head enthusiastically. 'Of course I'm sure!'

"Good then, its settled.'

She pushed out her chair, standing up and bringing her bowl to the sink. 'Thank you both for everything today! I should probably head out-'

A sharp rap at the door caused them all to turn their heads in unison. The light sabre crystal, which had been glowing happily in Cale's trouser pocket suddenly crackled and shone vibrantly, as though it were coming to life.

'Wonder who it is…' said Sam, with a distinct air of foreboding.

They would not have to wait long for an answer.


	4. The Escape

'Sam, don't you dare move,' Cale warned through clenched teeth.

There was a dark, powerful energy emanating from behind the door. It set Cale's nerves on edge. Feeling the Force like this was almost too much. The thick energy was washing over him like choppy waves. Sweat trickled down his back. The lightsabre crystal was burning, swinging back and forth on its chain erratically.

Sam stared at Cale, wide eyed and frightened.

'It's okay… I feel it too,' he assured him.

The sharp bangs on the door reverberated through the tiny apartment. 'I'm going to break down this door if you don't open it.' The voice was metallic, cold and calculating. Cale immediately wracked his brain for the safest, nearest escape route… but the dark energy was muddling his thoughts.

'Okay,' he said, letting out a deep breath and attempting to refocus his mind. Closing his eyes he pictured roots springing up under the carpet of the apartment, they took hold of his boots, winding their way up his body, enclosing and protecting him.

'Sam,' he said calmly, 'I want you to picture being in your racing pod. Strapped in where nothing can touch you.'

''Kay,' Sam said quietly.

The roots had closed in over his face now, tightly securing him in. Immediately Cale felt his body relax. Opening his eyes, he saw that Sam had a serene expression on his face, as though he were asleep. The crystal was glowing complacently in his hand.

'That's called Shielding. Going to your safe place, Sam,' Cale explained. 'It blocks out dark, draining energy. That's what the Dark Side will try to do to you first… drain you and make you weak.'

An ear-splitting scream emitted from Rory, reminding Cale that she was still in the room with them. He suddenly saw sparks issuing from the chunky metal door, a red lightsabre piercing through it. The crystal began its erratic swinging motion once more.

'Time to go,' Cale said, grabbing the collar of Sam's leather jacket and hauling him out of the chair.

'C'mon you!' he yelled at Rory, grabbing her wrist and dragging them both toward the fresher. 'We are going to squeeze through that tiny window. There's a garbage collection point below. Jump into that.'

'Into garbage?' Rory questioned in disbelief.

'Believe me sweetheart, you'd rather jump into a pile of shit then face what's coming for us behind that door,' Cale answered frankly, helping to hoist Sam through the window flap. The boy wrapped the crystal tightly around his enclosed fist.

Sam was through the window, landing gracefully into the rotten, stinking pile of refuse. He shot a thumbs up from under the street lamp.

'You're too big for this window!' Rory shouted in alarm as he helped lift her body through the opening.

'Don't worry about me! Get Sam and tell him to wait for me in the 'vette!' he replied. Her whole torso was through the flap, her hips wriggling through, almost stuck. 'Oh for Force sake!' Cale grumbled, putting both hands on her firm behind and pushing her through. She screamed the entire way down, landing in the garbage heap safely.

He wiped the sweat off his brow, re-entering the living room and watching as a large cutout from the metal door fell into the kitchen. A man, dressed in long black robes, disengaged his light sabre as he stepped through the door. Though his face was masked by silver, Cale recognized him instantly, his heart beginning to thump at a faster rate.

'Been a while, Ben.'

* * *

'C'mon lady!' Sam yelled, rushing toward the main street.

'Where are we going?' she called after him, rubbing her bruised buttocks and trying to keep up.

Sam didn't answer, instead he skidded to a stop outside a huge metal garage door. Keying in a code, he turned the door handle and pushed his way inside, revealing a dank space full of machine parts and rusty old ships, ranging from lithe racing pods to large, clunky yachts.

'This is huge,' Birdie mumbled, taking a moment to survey her surroundings. 'You two have quite the business happening.'

Sam suddenly yelped. 'Ow!' he shouted, his voice echoing off the machinery. He dropped the crystal from his fist, the light from it illuminating the entire garage.

'What happened?' Rory asked, running over to where he stood.

'This thing's dead hot, was burning my hand.'

They both stared at the crystal with trepidation. It was Rory who snapped them out of their trance. 'Cale said something about getting the… ve… Vette?'

'Yeah, the corvette! It's our little space cruiser. C'mon, I'll show you!'

He rushed over behind an engine that dwarfed Rory. She followed him to a reasonable sized cruiser. _This must be the corvette_ she though to herself. 'Sam… I've… I've never been in space before,' she admitted, as he opened up the little cargo bay and led her inside.

He hummed in response as his fingers danced over a series of complicated looking buttons in the cockpit. Rory gulped, wondering how it was possible that a thirteen year old could navigate this contraption with any sense of confidence.

'You're all right Rory. It's easier than-'

Sam stopped, staring into the dark garage from beyond the front windscreen. 'Than what, Sam?' she asked quietly.

Sam hesitated, 'I… I think something bad is going to happen to Cale,' he answered, almost in a whisper. 'We can't wait for him here,' he then added, more assuredly.

* * *

'I thought you would have known. I took a different name,' the dark Jedi answered.

'I heard rumors,' Cale replied. 'The Knights of Ren were pretty tempting for you, wasn't it? You were just a kid the last time I saw you… the Jedi just weren't doing it for you, were they?'

'Weak,' he answered. 'Just like you. Went into hiding, couldn't even face your master after the massacre on Kashyyyk.'

At the reminder, Cale felt the line of his jaw harden. 'And you turned out to be a huge disappointment.'

He laughed, making an ugly sound behind the mask. 'You have something I want Cage. The lightsabre crystal. Make this easy and hand it over.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Cale insisted.

Kylo Ren stepped closer, engaging the deep red blade of his lightsabre. It was unstable, making a terrible hissing noise as he approached closer. 'Maybe I'll cripple your other leg so they match,' he suggested.

Cale reached for the holster he usually had strapped around his thigh. His stomach dropped when he found it was empty. Kylo Ren was calmly making his way closer, his footfalls soundless on the ugly blue carpet that coated the apartment floor. His lightsabre lit up the apartment with a terrible red glow.

Cale remembered his early training, being warned of the Dark Side, how tempting it could be to give into its thick, powerful energy. He knew Ben back then, briefly. Cale was five years older than him, but remembered how jealous he was of the young Jedi's ability. Cale was an alright Jedi, but Ben's raw talent was shocking and dangerous. It was such a blow when he turned bad.

'Tell me where it is,' Ren repeated.

'No,' Cale whispered firmly.

They were an arm's length apart now. Ren swung his lightsabre until it was nearly touching Cale's ear. The heat burned at his skin. He closed his eyes, feeling the Force grounding him, washing away his fear. Ren could not get his hands on that crystal, even though Cale promised himself that he was done being a Jedi, he felt the assuredness of doing the right thing straight to his bones.

'I'll die before I let you take it,' he stated, opening his eyes. He felt a small ripple through the Force, something coming up behind him. _Get on the ground_.

'That can be arranged.'

A deafening flash-bang erupted in the apartment and Cale threw himself to the floor, pressing his face into the dirty carpet and threading his fingers behind his head. Looking up through the rubble, he saw that Ren had been thrown to the other end of the apartment and was also on the ground.

Cale quickly stood to his feet, turning around in a hurry, the whine of jets loud and comforting. Rory was at the cargo hatch, eyes wide and urgent, a slender hand hanging out to grab him. 'Get in!' she yelled desperately.

Cale did not turn around when he heard the lightsabre engage. Instead he reached for Rory's hand, hauling himself into the cargo bay of the tiny corvette. 'Cale!' Rory screamed as he fell onto her, pushing her as far as he could into the cargo bay.

They fell back unceremoniously, breathing heavily. Cale had landed hard on his elbow and yelped in pain, and Birdie wheezed as she tried to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her. She sat up, nearly bumping foreheads. 'Easy,' he told her as his vision refocused.

She was slim and straining underneath him. And her eyes were bright and wide. Cale hadn't seen an eye colour that vivid before. 'You okay?' she asked suddenly kneeing him in the stomach when she tried to stand. The spell was broken.

'Yeah,' he answered, wincing. 'I think'.


End file.
